


Never Liked the Taste

by Samsara (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, IDK what I was trying to do, Implied smut btw, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Samsara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few awkward years of high school that caused a slight rift in their friendship, Reiner began to religiously visit the cafe where Bertholdt worked in an attempt to rekindle their friendship the summer before college. But every attempt at fixing their relationship was always met with refusal, as Bertholdt feared that Reiner was simply bored and looking for something to entertain him for a few days. But as the summer drags on, and Reiner continues to show up every day, Bertholdt realizes the inconvenient feelings he had harbored for Reiner once are reignited and come summers end he finally allows Reiner the opportunity he was seeking. By this point, Reiner's realizing something rather crucial: he doesn't just want to be Bertholdt's friend now. There's something else there, and he knows damn well what it is. And so does Bertholdt.</p><p>[Warning: Cheesy Coffeeshop/Modern AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Before the first date Bertholdt knew he loved him.

But that’s something that’s prone to happening with childhood friends. You grow up together, you support one another, you spend your entire life close to one another. There might be periods where you drift apart both emotionally and physically but when all is said and done – you never really grow apart. That’s what happened with Bertholdt and Reiner. The summer before college they rekindled their friendship. Their last two years of high school had been distant, with Bertholdt remaining studious as ever while Reiner was hailed as the schools most popular jock. It was how things always remained. Other students were often surprised when Reiner asked Bertholdt for rides home from school or invited him to parties. What on earth could such a superstar see in such a shy kid like Bertholdt? The answer was the same from both of them: they’d always been friends, their mothers having been friends and fathers having been friends. They were simply close, regardless of how they stood in school.

The summer after graduation was when things began to start between them. No longer did either of them have to worry about the social stigma of high school weighing down on them when it came to socializing. Reiner didn’t have to worry about the other guys side eyeing him for being friends with such an effeminate theater student. Bertholdt didn’t have to worry about the other artists questioning whether Reiner had ulterior motives for their friendship. Even though they’d explained it countless times – everyone else never seemed to truly get their bond.

When summer came, Reiner began to show up at Bertholdt’s workplace almost daily. A small chain-coffee shop where Bertholdt worked the five to ten shift as a barista, and Reiner always sat at the table next to the counter so he could chat with Bertholdt as he worked. He usually just watched as Bertholdt’s hands flipped the switches as he made lattes and cappuccinos for the snooty looking college hipsters as they came in between classes. Always impressed with how Bertholdt had some peoples orders memorized, Reiner had planned to start ordering the same drink. Over and over and over until Bertholdt had it memorized as well. Just to test him. But he hated coffee, and Bertholdt wasn’t worth developing a liking for the stuff, no matter how close they were.

Bertholdt, of course, noticed how Reiner was doing very little with his summer as he pushed a medium iced caramel macchiato with extra whip across the counter to the glassy eyed shutterbug on the opposite side, finishing up the current rush and leaving the café relatively empty. Wiping his hands on a rag, Bertholdt wiped off the counter and the steaming prongs and slipped past the counter and took a seat in front of Reiner who was busying himself with some sort of handheld video game.

“Why are you here everyday?” Bertholdt asked him, noticing how Reiner hadn’t even looked up from the game. “Do you have nothing else to do but sit here and wait for me to finish, or is something going on at home? Is your dad drinking again?” Reiner’s father had been an alcoholic, although a functional one, but he was a bit much for the former allstar to handle most of the time.

A glance up from Reiner’s eyes as he paused his game and closed it, setting it to the side. “Nah.” He said as he leaned back in the chair, looking at Bertholdt as he stood, holding up a finger as he went to greet the customer, taking their order – coffee, black. No cream and sugar.—and handed them a cup before he sat back down. “I just feel bad we weren’t able to hang out much in school. Figured we could do things now that it’s over with.”

“I leave for college in eight weeks, Reiner.” Bertholdt said as he looked at him, expression soft, but serious all the same.

“Yeah well, me too.” Reiner said, sticking the game into his pocket. “But I figure we could do things until then.” The blonde gave Bertholdt a smile, confident and proud like he always had been and Bertholdt was left thinking the idea over. “Hell even if it’s just me hangin’ out here and us talking like we used to, I’d be down with that also. I’d just like to be around you.”

“You sound like you’re flirting with me.” Bertholdt began to laugh. “Is that the kind of line you use with girls?” He stuck out a finger, pointing towards Bertholdt in an almost accusatory manner, chuckling to himself – Bertholdt was right in that sense.

“I’m only flirting with you if you want me to be, but that’s beside the point. Do you want to do something tomorrow, or do I need to keep coming in here every day to ask you about it?”

Bertholdt only rolled his eyes and stood up, returning to behind the counter with a casual “Let me think about it.”

In fact, Bertholdt was very willing to say yes to Reiner. He didn’t let on to the other boy the way his heart rippled into a pitter patter of drum beats when he thought Reiner might be flirting with him. It was his own inconvenience, why should he need to bother Reiner with it? He was probably imagining things, and when Reiner said that his advances are only meant to be flirting if the victim wants them to be? Well, Bertholdt was confused essentially. Was Reiner actually trying to make a move on him?

In Junior year, Bertholdt came out. But only to himself and one person in the theater department – his instructor. No one knew. No one cared. Or rather, the faggot rumors had been spreading since Bertholdt was in middle school and even though they were all correct, Bertholdt didn’t care to expunge the rumors. He didn’t think it matter. This was school, and since when did his sexuality prove to be a crucial factor in the education of the other students? Unless he was to be the prime example of a homosexual male in a health class – he didn’t think it mattered in the slightest.

Reiner, Bertholdt had assumed, probably suspected Bertholdt’s sexuality. The boy never showed interest in girls (or really anyone for that matter). And not once through the entirety of high school had the boy gone on a date unless Reiner dragged him on a double date against his will, and usually Bertholdt would find some reason to leave early.

The next day came, and Reiner had decided he would start developing a taste for coffee. He was going to find something and he was going to order it every day. He’d need something to start himself off. Something sweet, and strong enough to overpower the bitter sludge that was espresso.

Bertholdt nearly grit his teeth as Reiner stood at the front of the line of eight other people, staring at the board overhead, asking “Do I want a white chocolate mocha with extra syrup? Or do I want that burnt caramel latter with double whipped cream and extra sugar?” And though Bertholdt loved and respected Reiner he had no choice but to ask him to step out of line while he prepared the regulars orders and got them out to the guests only to find Reiner to still deciding.

“No really, I can’t decide. I need something sweet. I hate coffee –“

“I know, Reiner.” Bertholdt said as he wiped down a counter. “How about I just make you something, and you can tell me what you think?” Reiner’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a custom drink, and agreed to it before he sat down.

“So about that hanging out deal.” He said as he leaned against the counter as Bertholdt measured the milk out into a metal pitcher. 1% milk. Whole was too strong for Reiner’s stomach, and he didn’t like the taste of skim and 2% was always too rich. After a moment, Bertholdt discarded the milk in favor of vanilla soymilk which he put under the steaming rod.

“I don’t know, Reiner. I need to work right now.” Bertholdt said as he steamed the vanilla soymilk, setting it aside as he put several pumps of chocolate, then white chocolate, and then caramel among other things into a cup with espresso and began to stir it feverishly before pouring the milk and milkfoam into the cup.

“I’d like to do something before we leave.” He whined, slumping to his knees in front of the counter as Bertholdt shook a can of whipped cream and layered it on top of the drink before he decorated the peak with chocolate and caramel sauce and sprinkling white chocolate flakes and butterscotch crumbles over it.

“We’re doing something right now.” Bertholdt said as he pushed the cup towards him. “I’m covering it this time, but if you want it again, I’m charging.”

Reiner smiled faintly, standing to his feet as he took the cup. “What do you call it?”

“Rocky Road Mocha.” Bertholdt said. “Chocolate, caramel, almond and white chocolate with marshmallow whipped cream.” He said, pushing the whipped cream canister away.  “Now sit down and let me work.”

Without hesitation, Reiner took the cup and went to sit down, staring at the mixed beverage with some sort of pride. Some kind of pride that came from an individual who had a custom drink prepared for him.  That kind of pride that came from the feeling you get when someone really knows you, and you realize that they just might mean more to you than you had first anticipated.

Needless to say, Reiner enjoyed the drink.

At that moment there were seven weeks and five days left before he and Bertholdt were both off to school. Bertholdt was traveling a few hours away, and he was only moving about forty-five minutes south. In the next seven weeks and five days. In the next fifty-four days. In the next one thousand two hundred ninety-six hours. In the next seventy-seven thousand, seven hundred sixty minutes. In the next four million six hundred sixty-five thousand six hundred seconds – Reiner was going to have to both accept that he was attracted to his friend and ask him to be his boyfriend. If he could pass his final math class after staying away for four straight days and doing nothing but memorize algebraic equations and walk out of that class with an A, he could ask Bertholdt on a date.

The easy part would be asking him. The hard part was getting him to say yes.

And so Reiner made a point of coming back every day (not that it was a challenge) and ordering the same drink every chance he got. The drink came to about six dollars after all the added shots involved, but in an act of mercy, Bertholdt often gave Reiner his discount number. As an employee he was allowed fifty percent off any custom drinks or a free drink of any kind from the menu. So Reiner always walked away paying an even three bucks forty for every one of these fancy lattes. In the end, Bertholdt was worth the aftertaste of coffee.

Each day Bertholdt continued his work and watched as Reiner would wait until just before closing before taking his leave. He’d leave with the same closing remarks: “So, what’re you doing tomorrow?” And each time, though Bertholdt yearned to say “I’d like to do something with you.” His need to work won over.

At least until three days before the summers end when Reiner approached him once more, having put on a few pounds from the countless mochas he’d been consuming each day. With seventy-two hours remaining, Reiner tried his luck for the third to last time.

“I’m free on Thursday.” Bertholdt said as Reiner had already prepared to walk to the door, dejected that once more he’d ask Bertholdt.

He’d spent the summer with his friend, trying to rekindle a friendship that he wanted to save after two years of solitude. The entire time, Bertholdt only seemed interested in keeping it the relationship of a customer and a worker – distant friends at best. At this seventy-two hour mark, Reiner was prepared to leave this café and never make another attempt at associating with this friend…

When in reality, Bertholdt just wanted to see how persistent Reiner was. It was a cold, rather manipulative thing to do on his part, but after years of separation, he needed to be sure that Reiner was in this for real, and he wasn’t just another flavor of the week.

“Thursday?” Reiner said, turning from the door, smiling calmly as Bertholdt began to slip from behind the counters and spray off the various tables. Closing in five minutes, and Bertholdt was already preparing to shut things down. “Sounds good.”

Bertholdt leaned over the table as Reiner began to push open the door feeling that pitter patter in his head. “Where are you going?” he asked as Reiner stood in the doorway. “I was going to leave with you.”

Reiner let the door close and he stood inside, smiling at Bertholdt.

He’d gotten used to the taste of coffee.

It was a game of stubbornness they had been playing. Who would break first? It was clear for a very long time that both of them were interested. The way they spoke and teased and chatted with one another would indicate nothing more than a closeness that was only held by old friends. There would be some nights where Bertholdt would ask Reiner to stay while he cleaned up and closed. And those nights they would walk slowly together and before Reiner got into his car they would stand close. Too close. And Reiner’d ask him again: what were they going to do tomorrow?

Bertholdt would simply say: “I’m going to come to work, and you’re going to show up thirty minutes after my shift starts, and wait for me all day before asking me that question again.”

And finally he relented. He needed to see and he needed to know that Reiner was not just trying to secure himself a summer fling. And with three days before his departure on Friday to move into his dorm room several hours away, Bertholdt agreed that it was time.

It was time long before Reiner showed up at Bertholdt’s house dressed far nicer than Bertholdt was used to. A polo shirt and khakis – and astonishingly enough the polo was tucked in _and_ Reiner wore a belt. He tugged at his collar a little uncomfortable, but Bertholdt thought he looked great.

Was it a date? He couldn’t tell, but Reiner’s awkwardness made him smile. For once, Reiner seemed to be the fish out off water.

It was time long before Reiner opened the door to his car and got Bertholdt inside and climbed in himself. It was time long before they sat down and ordered their drinks. It was time long before they had had dinner, and chatted away, and sat in comfortable silence.

It was time, probably the day Reiner suggested he was flirting only if Bertholdt wanted him to be.

They sat in the car after dinner and Reiner stared into his lap, now fussing with pulling his shift from within his pants as he half contemplated kissing Bertholdt again. He’d already done it once and Bertholdt hadn’t shied away. He knew it, probably from the day Bertholdt made him that special coffee, that he had _something_ for this boy. Maybe all those double dates he forced the boy on were really more for himself. Just so he could feel like he was spending _some_ intimate time with him.

Bertholdts lips were on his before he could make a move this time and his hand was at the side of his head. Reiner’s hands found his waist before he pulled away from Bertholdt, sheepish and embarrassed as he concluded they were both in the restaurants parking lot. They needed to go somewhere else.

So Reiner drove a while, a hand laced with Bertholdts. He had ten hours left with him before they didn’t see one another for several months. He drove to the state park – open twenty-four hours, and plenty of parking.

They crawled into the backseat and years of sexual tension went out the window as Reiner finished scrambling to pull his shirt out of that belt. Bertholdt’s lanky form lay out on the backseat and Reiner hovered over him, his khaki’s open and unzipped as he finished pulling down Bertholdt’s pants. His raised, fingers and holes lubricated, they made the best of this last night together.

They didn’t know what to make of it. Was it love? Maybe. It was something. Bertholdt thought he loved him, but he didn’t have an answer. Reiner thought it might be the same thing, but he was in the same boat. Reiner asked him if he was “totally gay” or “only partly.” Bertholdt looked at him with a smirk and replied with “I’m about to be a theater major, what do you think?”

He didn’t have to ask Reiner the question. As far as he knew, he was the only man Reiner had been with. But Reiner began to laugh as he adjusted his shirt and confessed: he’d never been with a girl.

They drove away from the park in comfortable silence, hands still being held by one another. Bertholdt asked the real question: “So what are we now?”

“I don’t know.” Reiner said as he parked in Bertholdt’s driveway, his hand still holding his friends. “We gotta see how things go, I guess. If either of us find someone, I guess we’re just friends with benefits, but if not – well, you know.”

Bertholdt remained seated in the car, looking at Reiner whose heart was rattling feverishly in his ribcage. “I don’t want us to find someone.” He said softly, reaching over to place a kiss on Reiner’s lips. “But if we do, I suppose we do.”

Reiner smiled at him, his heart still shaking about as if it were attempting to escape. “You have fun, alright?” he said, beginning his farewell.

Bertholdt unhitched his belt and nodded, opening the door and began to crawl out, his head turned back to look at the other. “Reiner?” he said, catching his attention. “Don’t fall out of love with me too fast, alright?”

“Idiot.” He said with a laugh in his voice. “Who said I was going to let that happen?”

Bertholdt just smiled and closed the door.

He would just have to hope Reiner loved him come Christmas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Debating putting in Berik (since if you readers know anything about me, you'll know I have a HUGE bunch of headcanons about Berik) as well as Annie and Ymir. But I'm up in the air about this. Suggestions?

Reiner came home with words about a girl when the holidays came around. Not to say he brought her home with him, but he came home, spouting about this girl named Christine or something. Needless to say, Bertholdt found himself suddenly sickened by the idea of the Rocky Road Mocha he’d made for Reiner upon coming home.

Bertholdt had been home for a week before Reiner got back, and he spent his days far too absorbed in the idea of what he and Reiner might be like together around the holidays. He imagined cozy nights together in the snow, trying to make the muscular blond drink a gingerbread latte, exchanging gifts and sharing new years together.

And Reiner had to ruin it all because he brought _Christine_ into the equation.

The day Reiner walked back into the café, Bertholdt had been working every day – from two in the afternoon until closing. It was an awful shift because it involved both the lunch rush as well as the after-work rush. He was tired and cranky by the time Reiner walked in at five-twenty-four in the evening, posture that of a confident man. Or rather a man who had just gotten his dick wet more times than he could count. It was the poise of confidence and cockiness and Bertholdt immediately felt a combination of joy and anxiety piling on him all at once.

First of all: why was Reiner walking that way? Second of all: what was going through that boys head? Third of all: His collar was pressed, and Reiner was never _that_ well dressed.

He didn’t go to his usually table and instead he leaned down on the counter now that Bertholdt had finished cleaning from the slight rush about an hour earlier. He flashed Bertholdt an award winning smile and lifted an arm, leaning his chin upon his hand, his lips pulled into a proud smile.

“You gonna welcome me home, sunshine? Or do I need to need to summon the welcoming committee to do it for you?” He grinned and Bertholdt began to smile as well. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s fine. You look pretty tired, so I don’t expect ya to want to talk much right now.”

“Oh Reiner, I could talk – “ he began quickly, but Reiner pulled from the counter and began to inspecthis fingernails.

“I gotta get home, let Christine know I made it home safe.” He said, still focusing on his nails, chuckling softly to himself. “That girl’s got me on a strict nail regime, y’know. She said she couldn’t stand the amount of dirt that always got caught in them –“

“Who the _hell_ is Christine?!” Bertholdt found himself snapping as he dropped the metal steaming pitcher to the floor with a clatter, the remains of milk foam splattering on to the floor. His hands rather viciously began to twist the towel he had in his other hand in order to keep himself from raising his voice much louder.

Reiner turned with a look of surprise plastered on his face, nearly hairless eyebrows raising inquisitively. “I texted you, the girl I’ve been dating.”

“I got eleven texts from you all semester, Reiner!” Bertholdt’s attempt at twisting the towel to contain his annoyance was proving futile as he had shouted this phrase, catching the attention of the few guests who weren’t preoccupied with their headphones. “There was no mention of a Christine! Two of those texts were asking me what I wanted for my birthday, and three of those texts were drunk messages regarding some guy name Gregory! On that note – who the hell is he?”

Bertholdt had never suspected he was the jealous sort. But hearing that Reiner was dating new people and most likely sleeping with them as well (didn’t Reiner tell him he was gay? Or something to that extent?) didn’t sit well with Bertholdt. Maybe it was because he was lonely. School did not prove to do him well when it came to the concept of making friends. He didn’t click well with anyone, especially since he was in the process of taking all his general education courses this year, so the following year he could immerse himself in what he really wanted to take. Most people he met were the same cookie cutter individuals he knew in high school. He’s a class clown with impeccable grades. She’s into equestrian sports and lives on a farm. He plays football and is living up to daddy’s expectations. She plays field hockey and enjoys crocheting. All people who fit into the same tropes and guidelines as everyone else. There’s at least one of each of them from every school.

They had become almost predictable for Bertholdt. Everyone was a freshmen, and everyone came from different walks of life, but ultimately each and every one of them had at least one or two more copies of themselves wandering the buildings hallways somewhere. Bertholdt was sure there were carbon copies of himself.

“Hello, my name is Bertholdt Hoover, I’m a freshman. I’m a theater major. I enjoy reading and going to museums.”

Somewhere else in this school there was bound to be someone else with that exact same description, but instead their name might be Leonard Balters instead. And somewhere in that school there would be another person just like Reiner, who had said: “Hey. I’m Reiner Braun. Freshmen. Undeclared, but thinkin’ about physical education. I play football and I like video games.” But in Bertholdt’s case, he had yet to meet the Reiner doppelganger of his school.

Maybe, this Christine, or this Gregory were cookie cutters of Bertholdt at Reiner’s school. But he wasn’t focused on that. At the moment, Bertholdt was focused on one thing: why was Reiner dating someone else.

“So what?!” Bertholdt began shouting as he scrambled to pick up the steaming pitcher, dropping his voice to a sinister whisper as he leaned over the counter to offer Reiner a sneer. “You fucked me at the end of summer as practice, or something? Was I your experiment to figure out if you liked dick?”

Generally, Bertholdt was passive. Generally he might let something like this slide.

But this wasn’t a general situation.

Bertholdt had spent the last three and a half months away at college thinking about that boy he’s got at home waiting for him. He spent the last three and a half months thinking that he might just be in love with someone and wanting nothing more than to tell everyone he knew about this great guy from home with the giant biceps and million dollar smile.

And in a sentence, Reiner dashed it all. With Christine. Fucking Christine.

Reiner was amazed, he looked up from his nails and looked Bertholdt dead in the eye. He was furious. Why was he furious? Did he…not get it?

“I swear I sent you a text about her. I sent a huge mass text to everyone I know about her.” Reiner began to explain but Bertholdt was already beginning to seethe. “She’s the chick in the theater department helpin’ me figure out my gen eds for the theater department –“

And so Bertholdt froze, staring at Reiner with narrowed eyes as the concept began to process in his head.

Theater department.

Reiner was no longer a cookie cutter. Had Bertholdt ever heard of someone in Reiner’s position? Football star. Most popular boy in school. Sex appeal from here to Jupiter. Theater Major.

Good thing Bertholdt never liked the taste of cookies.

 

Reiner apologized to Bertholdt for the confusion and when the taller of the two had his break, Reiner pulled out his phone, revealing the (accidentally unsent to Bertholdt) text message. It stated that Reiner had figured out what major he wanted to go into – theater—but he was being monitored by a peer counselor to see to it that Reiner kept up on hygiene and his grades in order to make himself stand out as a good candidate for acting positions in upcoming productions. Bertholdt simply held his head in his hands and began to apologize for his jealousy and how quickly he jumped to conclusions.

And then he quickly proceeded to apologize for realizing he was jealous. He had never suspected that he of all people could be the jealous sort.

“Theater.” Bertholdt said quietly, heaving a sigh. “You, in theater.” He began to laugh, the concept seeming like a joke to him. “I’ve never seen you act, other than the one line you had in our third grade Christmas play.” Reiner simply shrugged and took a sip of the Rocky Road Mocha – which now had actual coffee in it. He had become to grow accustomed to it thanks to late nights, and early mornings – and reached across the table to grasp Bertholdt’s hand.

“I figure if I suck at acting, I can always do technical theater, right?” He smiled and caught Bertholdt’s lips beginning to quirk upwards as well. Bertholdt’s eyes gazed towards Reiner’s hand, noticing how it was slightly starting to curl around his own. It wasn’t a genuinely intimate hand hold, but it was the kind of touch, and kind of reassurance Bertholdt needed at that moment to distract himself  from the current pangs of discomfort so he could go back to work.

Reiner. A theater major. Who would have thought.

Reiner had single-handedly made himself a new cookie-cutter mold and as far as Bertholdt was concerned, there would probably never be anyone like him. At least in his college. He knew of dance students who fit Reiner’s definition, but not theater majors. That was something different. But it began to concern him. Did he have a copy of himself in Reiner’s school that might replace him? Why date one theater-obsessed bookworm when there were surely others.

So he asked as he topped a caramel macchiato with a drizzle of syrup and passed it to the customer over the counter. “Have you met anyone like me?” he asked as he wiped down the steaming rods again and began to wipe down the counters. The time was eight fifty-seven and as far as Bertholdt was concerned it was time to close shop. The doors closed at nine, and ten was when he was off.

He didn’t ask Reiner to leave as he turned the lock on the door and flipped off the switch for the OPEN sign in the front window. Reiner instead helped lift chairs from the floor and overturn them to rest on the tables so Bertholdt could begin rolling up the rugs that hung out in front of the doors and out from the kitchen.

“One or two guys.” Reiner admitted as he flipped another chair, sliding its faux-leather seat across the top of the table. “But neither are quite like you. One guy’s just quiet and smart like you, but the other one looks sorta like you and he’s a theater student. But he’s graduating next year so nothin’ to worry about.”

“Worry? Why would I worry?” Bertholdt asked as he filled up a small red bucket with cleaning solution and hot water.

“Because you snapped at me when I mentioned Christine, and assumed I had left you for her.” Reiner’s words were harsh, but there wasn’t anything cruel about them. “You realized it yourself, you’re a jealous sort, and I guess I can deal with that.”

Bertholdt felt that knot growing in his stomach as he began to wash down the counter tops, nodding his head slowly. “Are you sure? I can work on it.”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Reiner admitted, looking up at Bertholdt with pursed lips. “Kind of hurt when you went off on me like that. You jumped right ahead and made these assumptions that I replaced you.” With a head nodding furiously as he wrung out the rag he was washing with, Bertholdt looked up.

“Reiner, I _know_.” He said with a heavy sigh. “But you need to listen to me –“ He plopped the rag into the bucket and moved around from behind the counter to stand by the other boy. “I went through high school feeling like you had replaced me. You had this entirely different life that I couldn’t understand and I felt like a stranger to you.” His gaze was away from Reiner’s and trying to avoid eye contact. “You only showed interest in me when it benefited you, so I’m going to be wary. Now that I finally have you to myself –“

Bertholdt stepped away and returned to his bucket, resuming his work with some sort of dejection in his posture. “Now that I have you, I’m prepared to lose you at any second.” He added as he wiped down a particularly sticky patch on the countertop. “But I’m not going to go down without a fight this time.”

This current situation was one Reiner would have preferred not to be involved in. But it was a situation that needed to be endured for the betterment of both of them and whatever sort of relationship it was that they were having. “You know, I tried inviting you to parties and games all the time.”

“Yes, and I would go _if I was up for it_.” Bertholdt said with a slight hiss. “But most of the time you ditched me and I was left sitting alone and awkward before I ended up leaving.” He sighed and dropped the wet rag in favor of a dry one. “And I invited you to every play, every performance and every art show and you never showed once.” He wiped down the area where the sticky mess had been and ended up groaning in annoyance. “I was honestly putting more effort into saving our friendship than you were.”

“I _ditched_ you?” Reiner asked hotly, abandoning his chair duty to get close to Bertholdt, clearly growing annoyed with him. “What the hell makes you think that I was ditching you?”

“Because you always got drunk within thirty minutes of us being there and forgot you brought me with you!” Bertholdt shouted back at him. “You’re a nuisance to be around when you drink, so why would I want to even be with you when you’re like that? And you know, maybe I got jealous over Christine because most of the texts you sent me over the semester involved you being drunk of your ass – and maybe I put two and two together and assumed Christine was just some girl you’d been hooking up with!”

“Three, Bertholdt! _Three!_ I sent you _three_ drunk texts! And none of those were from parties!” Reiner too began to groan and this time he gave up, and headed over to pick up more of the discarded chairs. “Why the hell are you suddenly so wrapped up in the idea of how I treated you in high school?”

“God damn it.” Bertholdt sighed as he barged out from behind the counter, feeling his head racing in time with the ripples of his stomach. “Because maybe you’re the only person from high school who will give me the time of day now? And maybe it’s because unlike you with your Gregory’s and Christine’s, I’ve yet to meet anyone at school myself. And maybe it’s because I spent at least four years of my life watching my best friend drink away his weekends at parties and gradually forgetting about me. And maybe it’s because that best friend suddenly cares about me again – and _intimately_ , mind you – and I just might be absolutely terrified that this is about to be high school _all over again_.”

Reiner began to open his mouth in reply, but Bertholdt kept speaking. And as he spoke, years of pent up depression and heartbreak and irritation began to spill out.

He spoke of how it felt to watch as Reiner went off with different boys during homeroom every day. How it felt from day one where the two of them went into school as eager fourteen year old boys, prepared to enjoy their high school years together, to how the two of them would only mingle for a few minutes during homeroom…to how Reiner wouldn’t even say a word and begin to vanish in the morning as soon as they came inside…

And then how it felt when Bertholdt began arriving at school all alone. He spilled it. Watching Reiner turn into a stranger while he was left behind. And watching as Reiner made friends and became popular with everyone he met. And Bertholdt was left behind.

And how it felt to realize that his best friend was going places and he still was left behind.

Bertholdt had always been a lonely boy, but high school made him realize just how lonely lonely could be.

“Is that what it is?” Reiner asked, certainly dumbfounded at the confession. He knew Bertholdt was isolated a lot in school, but he’d never realized to just what extent. Was he really Bertholdt’s only real friend? Were people from school, Bertholdt’s own friends, seriously not talking to him since graduation. Meanwhile, on his end Reiner was always being texted, receiving facebook messages or tweets from, well. Everyone. Teachers included.

“Of course that’s what it is.” Bertholdt said with a damp sounding sniffle. “If you had this idea in your head that I’m somehow incredibly happy and have a great social life, you’re completely misinformed, Reiner.”

“So what can I do?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.

“For the love of god, don’t leave me.” The reply came quickly and Bertholdt felt another wet sniffle coming on as he felt the damp film of tears coating his eyes. “You’re the only one who’s ever given a damn. And if you have to leave me, do it now. I’d rather put my faith in someone who will stay than someone who’s going to walk out on me the moment the weather turns foul.”

And so Reiner approached him again, reaching out to place his hands on the sides of Bertholdt’s shoulders. He offered the boy a smile. A gentle, concerned one.

“I’ll stay, okay?” he said, a bit nervous himself as if fearful he might say the wrong thing. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He only hoped he could make good on that promise.


End file.
